I yawned. “Too gorgeous for words.” “You’re just saying that ‘cause you’re my mother.”
I heard the iron front door knocker sound, two solid clinks.
“That’s Javier, gotta run.” She hurried toward the door.
I jumped out of bed and threw on my robe. “Wait a minute. When will you get back?” “Before midnight. Don’t worry.”
I grabbed Dan’s address book and called out. “Let me give you Jay Cascio’s number in case you need to reach me.”
She dashed back to kiss me good-bye before running out the door. “Don’t bother. Just take your cell-phone.”
I walked out on the gallery and watched Angela and Javier jump into a blue import with Melissa and Fernando.
As they drove away, I felt very sad and lonely in that big house, all by myself.
Chapter Thirty-one
I spotted the digits “288” on Jay’s mailbox in front of a narrow three-story stucco. Black, wrought-iron stairs were mounted outside the gallery in the courtyard.
I parked beside a white Jeep in the driveway as Jay came out to greet me. I gasped when I saw him, dressed in snug-fitting jeans and brown-leather cowboy boots. Swirls of dark brown chest hair protruded from the v-neck of his light blue sweater. Nestled between low brows and tan cheekbones, his eyes beamed like blue lights. His wavy steel-gray hair appeared damp as if he’d just taken a shower. I was embarrassed for my heart. It raced like a scared rabbit. My instinct was to run. I wanted to shift into reverse and drive away. Instead, I watched as he walked up to my van and opened the door. Not knowing what else to do, I smiled and positioned the shoulder strap of my purse, then grabbed the paper bag with the chilled white wine and mineral water.
His eyes moved over me. “Hello,” he said before taking my arm. “You look beautiful.” I felt naked in the low cut red dress, but tried to appear confident as his soft lips kissed my cheek.
Speechless, I inhaled his clean soap smell and after-shave.
“Let me take that,” he said, relieving me of the sack of drinks before he guided me to the front door.
“Unfortunately, my daughter couldn’t come. She had other plans.”
He smiled, seductively. “I’m glad you could make it.”
My heart lunged again, probably from a combination of excitement and fear. After all, I really didn’t know this guy and here I was having dinner with him at his house, alone.
Jay took the wine out of the bag and walked into the kitchen. “Fix you a drink? If you’d prefer something stronger, I have bourbon, scotch, rum.”
“The wine will be fine,” I said, nervously.
Jay uncorked the bottle and poured me a glass, then popped open a beer for himself.
I sipped the wine, hoping to relax. “Could I help with dinner?” I offered.
Jay opened the refrigerator. “I think I’ve got everything under control.” He took out a plastic container. “How do you like your steak?”
“Medium rare. But I’m not picky.”
“Be right back,” he said, winking at me as he walked out the back door to a glowing barbecue grill.
I took that opportunity to look around. The front room was sparsely furnished with exercise bike and nautilus equipment like I’d seen in health clubs and gyms. There were three cardboard boxes on the floor, labeled “books,” next to an unconnected television set.
“I’ll give you the grand tour,” Jay said.
We walked up a spiral staircase where a glossy black, grand piano stood in the center of the room. I wondered how he got it up the narrow stairs, but decided not to inquire.
The second floor was cozy with a blue velvet recliner, matching sofa, coffee table and two glass and wicker end tables.
“Lovely piano,” I said as I ran my hand along the slick wood.
“It was my grandma’s. She left it to me along with the candelabra over there.” Jay pointed to the silver candelabra with three ivory candles which sparkled in the center of a glass dining table. The table, already set for dinner, appeared crowded in a corner alcove. “The candelabra reminded Grandma Mary of Liberace. She loved him.”
“My mother loved him too, tried to imitate his style,” I said.
“Your mother played?”
“Yes, beautifully.”
He took my hand and squeezed it. “What about you?”
“Unfortunately, no. My mother was the pianist in the family, she’d play and I’d sing.”
Still holding my hand, he sat on the end of the piano bench and looked up at me. “Name some of the tunes.”
I stared up at the ceiling. My face was burning hot, I could feel it. “You’re putting me on the spot. Let’s see...Mother liked the old songs. I’m sure you’ve heard Love Is A Many Splendored Thing. She played that quite a bit.”
Jay released my hand and played the song’s introduction, nodding for me to begin.
At first, I thought he was kidding, but then, decided to give it my best shot, a light soprano, “Love is a many splendored thing...”
Jay harmonized as his hands danced across the ivory and black keys. He clapped when the song ended, then said, “Very lovely.”
I sounded flustered. “You’re kind. I’m surprised I remembered the words.”
Jay pushed himself away from the piano and stood up. I felt his warm breath as his fingers touched my face. I noticed they were trembling like my knees.
In fact, my whole body trembled and tingled as if it were waking up from a long, cold winter.
Jay exhaled a sigh, then backed away. “I’d better check the steaks.”
While he was gone, I tried to escape my feelings by walking into the adjoining room. It was stacked with music and sound equipment. Two keyboards stood side-by-side. I noticed three file cabinets and speakers mounted from floor to ceiling and a stereo system against one wall. Another wall displayed trophy shelves with pictures.
In my peripheral vision, I saw Jay coming toward me as I picked up a golden statue of a boxer, his arm extended in a left jab.
“Were you a Golden Gloves champ?” I asked.
“Many moons ago. Kind of by accident. I wanted to win the Bengal Bouts at Notre Dame so I entered the Golden Gloves in Chicago, more to train than anything.”
“Your strategy worked,” I said, touching the head of the Bengal Bouts Champion trophy. Directly above it hung a picture of a small boy who sat in a wheel chair next to a Baltimore Colts football player. “Is that you?”
“Yours truly, as the Easter Seals Poster Boy. Had leg-calve-perthes back then.”
“Perthes? I’ve heard of it, but I’m not exactly sure what it is.”
“Genetic, causes paralysis.”
“You’ve made a miraculous recovery. You certainly aren’t paralyzed now.”
He laughed. “I try to keep in shape, work out. One of my legs is a little shorter than the other but I wear a lift to avoid limping. Maybe it’s not too obvious.”
“Not at all,” I said, before asking about the other pictures.
Jay identified his three brothers, sister, mother, father and grandparents. In one of the photographs, he was standing with his arm around a beautiful blonde woman.
I thought I’d seen her before. “She looks familiar.”
“That’s Cindy Taylor.”
“Isn’t she a singer?”
“Yeah. Was. Could have been a big star. Had a voice like Whitney Houston’s.”
“Where is she now?”
“She died,” Jay said, softly.
From his expression, I realized the two must have been intimate. “She was young,” I said, touching his shoulder in a comforting gesture. I felt an instant rapport with Jay. I, too, knew the pain of losing a loved one, though the subject was awkward, much too personal, and I tried to change it by pointing to another photograph. “This looks like you and...is that Dan Duffy?”
Jay nodded. “Taken a couple of years ago, during one of our jam sessions.”
“Maybe it won’t be long before you’l
l be playing together again. Did you visit him today?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t see much improvement.”
I wanted to reassure him. “It’s been only three days since the accident.” I thought of Dan’s journal. “While we’re on that subject, I found an interesting book of his. He dropped it in the accident.”
“What sort of book?”
“Sketches. He’s quite an artist, isn’t he?”
“Yeah,” Jay said. “I’d love to see it. Let me grab the steaks first. Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
In five minutes, we sat down to green salad, stuffed potatoes and steaks. Jay slid CD’s into the stereo. Stephanie Mills’ torrid voice rang out: “Something that you told me...’”
Jay dimmed the lights and lit three candles before pouring me another glass of wine. I handed Dan’s journal to Jay, then sampled my steak, which was tasty and I said so.
Jay smiled. “I’m glad you like it.” He thumbed through the book and simultaneously, speared his salad. “Man, he’s talented. This is like a movie.”
“What does it communicate to you?” I asked.
“Looks just like Mr. Duffy here.” Jay pointed to the sketch of a man being shot by another. “The redhead always believed his father was murdered.”
I wiped the corners of my mouth with a napkin.
“Was his father murdered?”
Jay considered the question. “It’s very possible. Although the cops said it was an open and shut suicide because there was a note.” Jay stared off into space. “Duff went nuts after his dad died. He tried to find out what really happened. He was angry, couldn’t believe his dad would kill himself. And Mr. Duffy didn’t seem like the suicidal type. The sad thing is, Duff lost his ambition and drive after he lost his dad. When we were kids we talked about attending Notre Dame together. But he changed his mind and decided college wasn’t for him. He worked as a mailman instead and hated it.”
I took a sip of wine. “And the other pictures in the book, what do they mean?”
He studied the picture of a tree. “Our hideout at Loch Raven.”
“What is Loch Raven?” I asked.
“A reservoir outside of Baltimore.”
“You mean, you two had a hideout in a tree?”
“It was under the tree, we used to camp out a lot. We stumbled on a little cave there.” He thumped the picture. “Saw it, as plain as day, under the tree roots. So, we kind of mutilated that poor old tree to get inside. Duff painted a piece of plywood and decorated it with tree limbs to camouflage the opening.”
“If I wanted to find it, how would you tell me to get there?”
“It’s exactly one point two miles from the Lock Raven entrance.” Jay smiled, crooking up the left side of his top lip, an amused Elvis Presley. “Why? Would you like for me to take you out there sometime?”
“Sounds intriguing,” I said, hoping he’d say more. “What about this picture?” I flipped the pages to the drawing of a strong box.
“Man, what a story that is.” Jay leaned back, stretching his body out. “We lifted that safe from a refurbished 1928 Cadillac.”
“You stole it?”
“Not intentionally but I suppose we did. It’s kind of complicated.”
“I’m interested.”
“When Duff got his license, he had a feeling his dad would get him a car, and one day we found one in the old barn behind his house. The barn was way back in the woods, a hundred yards or so. Used to belong to a family who raised horses till the Duffys bought the place. The barn had been neglected for a long time, became infested with wasps. The redhead and I decided to clean it up, wasps included, and make a place for jam sessions. Well, as we walked to the barn, we noticed fresh tire tracks. We had a tough time opening the door because it was stuck, blocked by something. We finally pushed the door open and inside we found a shiny, 1928 black and orange Cadillac, an exact replica of the car Al Capone drove back in the prohibition era. Duff got all excited. He was convinced his dad hid the car as a surprise. He loved gangster movies, their cars and stuff like that. Well, anyway, getting back to the safe. There was a large chest sitting on a steel rack, connected above the back bumper.” Jay demonstrated with his hands. “When we opened the chest, we found the safe. You can imagine how crazy we got. First, finding the car and then the safe. Just as we lifted the safe out of its case, a cop car drove up. Right away we felt guilty, so we shoved the safe under some hay. It’s amazing, but that cop didn’t see what we’d done. He told us the old Cadillac had been stolen from Stan Gambrini the night he was murdered.”
“Quite a story,” I said, trying to figure out exactly what happened. “What made that cop go out to a barn in such a remote area.”
“Maybe he was cruising around and noticed the tire tracks or maybe somebody called him to check out the place.”
“He must have asked y’all to explain why the car was in Tom Duffy’s garage?”
“Yeah, but Duffy’s Dad handled it. He told the cop we were innocent, and we weren’t charged with anything.”
“Even though the car was on Duffy’s property and you and Dan were caught with it?”
“Tom Duffy was a real slick talker, the Clarence Darrow of Baltimore. He could get anybody off. And besides, the cops thought gangsters shot Gambrini, stole the car and stashed it in the barn. And like I said, Mr. Duffy was considered a respectable lawyer, not a gangster.”
I studied Jay closely. He seemed sincere. “And you never told the police about the safe?”
“We never told anyone. We were afraid to. And that dumb cop didn’t bother to search the barn. So, a couple of days later, we borrowed my father’s truck and took the safe to our hideout.”
I flipped to the sketches of the diary, thinking of Martha’s premonition. “And then, you found a diary inside?”
“No, but we tried everything. Even thought of using explosives.”
“From these pictures, it looks like Dan discovered the combination.”
“Maybe. Like I said, he was obsessed with his father’s death. And he thought the safe was connected in some way.” Jay paused, still staring at the page. “Ummmm... that picture of the diary makes me think of what Duff told me after his mother died. He found his dad’s diary locked in her closet. She never mentioned it when she was alive. She drank a lot, died of cirrhosis.”
“I don’t understand, Jay. Why would Dan place his Dad’s diary in the safe?” I found myself gripping the crystal, wondering if Jay knew about the diary and the money. If so, he was a convincing liar.
Jay shrugged his shoulders. “I have no idea. We were never able to open the safe.”
I mentioned my interview with Gable and his connection with the Duffy family.
Jay said he remembered that Gable worked with Tom Duffy. “Great guy. Mr. Duffy thought a lot of him. Everybody did.” As if punctuating his sentence, Jay closed Dan’s journal. “You must be one hell of a reporter. You ask a lot of questions.”
I smiled. “It’s an occupational hazard.” Jay lightly touched my cheek. “I don’t mind your questions, but I’d rather be part of your personal life.”
I blushed.
Jay caressed my hand. “And, if you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you a question.”
“Ask.”
“Are you involved with anyone right now?”
Embarrassed by his bluntness, I tried to answer as best I could. “My husband died not long ago. We were married nineteen years.”
“I take that to be a no.” He squinted at me. “Nineteen years? Impossible. You don’t look much older than that now.”
“Don’t flatter me.”
He frowned, looking offended. “I don’t flatter people. It’s not necessary.”
“I’m thirty-eight, far from nineteen.”
“Next December, I’ll be the big four-o, but I’m not worried.” He turned his head around in the direction of the stereo and I became aware of the music again.
I tried to identify the blue
sy mix of piano and strings.
Jay pulled me to my feet. “I’d like to dance with you.”
I resisted for a moment, then followed his lead as he wrapped his arm around my waist and took my right hand. My left hand rested on his chest.
He closed his eyes tightly, slipping into himself, reminding me of the night I first saw him at the Green Door. “I worked on this song today tried to learn the words.”
Jay’s voice was deep and soulful, singing along with Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes. “Yesterday, I had the blues...”
As he sang, he drew me closer, guiding me around the room.
When his musical serenade ended, I found myself transfixed by his stare. “Just standing next to you drives me nuts,” he whispered.
Before I could speak, Jay covered my mouth with his. He gently sucked my lips into a soft passionate kiss, and moaned as our tongues touched. My heart thumped in my throat. I felt the rush of warm blood. Like a kite riding a tail wind, I lost control.
Hungry for his kiss, I pulled him closer. He felt my desire and moaned again while tracing my backbone and butt with his hand.
I arched up against him, then rubbed my fingers over him, longing to feel the full length of his stiffness.
“Jesus, Lilah, I want you,” Jay whispered. He exhaled a heated breath while nuzzling
my neck and breast. I could feel my nipples throbbing.
“I’m burning up,” he said as his fingers fumbled with the tiny pearl buttons on my dress front.
I came to my senses, then. “I have to go, Jay.”
He gave me a frozen stare. “Why, Baby? What’s wrong?”
I tried to breathe normally. “You said you needed to get to the club by ten, and there’s not enough time. Besides...”
Jay glanced at his watch, then grimaced. “Damn, it seems like you just got here, and you’re right we need more time. Maybe, you could come to the club with me. Later, we can come back here.”
“I can’t Jay. Angela will be returning from her movie date, and I can’t leave her at Belle Viella alone.”
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